


Taboo

by MistressVoid (LadyVoid)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Exhibitionism, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Flirting, Friends With Benefits, Friendship, Humour, I'm writing Hermione Granger to Doja Cat's music, Kinky, M/M, Multi, Non-Linear Narrative, Nonconventional Relationships, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Role Reversal, Ron Weasley Bashing, Some Fluff, Triad - Freeform, Voyeurism, apparently this is turning out to be a slow burn, no beta we die like women, shameless flirting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:53:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22231357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyVoid/pseuds/MistressVoid
Summary: Every chase is a game of power for the audacious, and every taboo is a siren song for the sinners. Sex is just the inevitable aftermath for both. Shameless, slow burn smut.
Kudos: 7





	Taboo

**Author's Note:**

> No beta, we die like women. Ranging from mere misspellings to blatant grammar mistakes, I am the one to blame for all.
> 
> Constructive criticism is welcome, I do want to practice and better my writing. I will specially thank any criticism about the dialogues, and the setting of the scenes. I do have my own self raging war against myself with the 'show, don't tell' part of all this.
> 
> The one quote on this chapter is by Robert Wilson Lynd*.

Her wand set off on her own hand with the timed alarm at three and a quarter. Startled for a second as she was rudely awoken from her mental zone, her frown dissolved into a small smile. With an efficient, swift swish, Hermione Granger transferred her floating, glowing, unfinished calculations into her prepared parchment, and proceeded to sign her official report to her supervisor while her work compiled in order for her. Yes, she would be working on her current project at home, while on the weekend, but purely out of her own drive and dedication and not just to meet the impossible deadline her Head of Department had been set by the Minister of Magic.

Bunch of morons, if they thought underpaid workers would work their skin off to meet their insane needs. But no matter, she knew she wouldn’t be set to any interesting project until all the aritmanthers -and not just her- finished helping with the calculations for rebuilding the damned building, seeping of centuries of magic had allow it to develop a sense of self and its own, unpredictable (as of yet) magic. And so rebuilding and rewarding would have to follow its sense of chaotic rightness and its needs.

And it wasn’t even sentient, not like Hogwarts, so nobody had been having any help from the building itself.

Breathing deeply in and reminding herself that no, she would not keep working on that knot on her latest calculus, caused by the rift of the Department of Mysteries just by itself; because there were more important things awaiting her attention. Namely, her late lunch date with Harry.

With a last look over at her tidied part of the office, she put her peplum jacket on, grabbed her portfolio with all pertinent parchments and notes and got on her way towards the magical lifts, calling for one with a soft ding from her wand. Her department was a side office on level three, Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, just relocated there for the moment because of how big of an issue the rebuilding was, even five years after Voldemort’s defeat, so usually Harry just dropped from level two to get her. But not today.

Today they had _plans_. She couldn’t help herself, and with a smirk she rubbed her thighs together as discreetly as she could, making it pass as if she was only tiredly rubbing her tired ankles together yet luxuriating in the feel of her new silk thighs to match her gartier. 

The doors opened for her, and as she was getting on it she couldn’t help but be startled for a second at the wizard inside, all alone. It was still a bit disconcerting seeing him in a somewhat more relaxed wardrobe. That was a very flattering cashmere roll-neck jumper, whispering of wealth without even having to touch it. Of course he would forego any kind of coat, as a wizard he did not had to brave the winter to get to any destination.

She regained her footing and stepped on without any further hesitation. She knew why nobody was riding the elevator but him, a death eater.

‘Afternoon, Granger’, the modulated, low baritone of the one and only Draco Malfoy greeted her, while his eyes glanced down to peer at her. His steely eyes stopped twice, once in her kitten heels, and twice when going back up her legs, noting her pencil skirt barely reaching past her knees. Both were unusual choices for her to go to work a normal friday, and they both knew it.

‘Good afternoon, Malfoy’, her own breathless voice took her by surprise, but nevertheless she took it in stride and smirked at the consequently single eyebrow raised. She had long ago done away with her prim and proper girlhood. And even then it was very much up for debate if she had ever been a good girl.

She took the necessary step into the lift and savoured the thrill of the unexpected opportunity. In a tentatively comfortable silence, she turned herself to face the elevator’s doors, just a step closer than Malfoy was. And who cared if she had rounded herself perhaps too close to him given how empty the elevator was at that moment? She knew that if he wanted, he had a perfect view of her petite frame, down her slightly provocative decolletage, and her smirk sharpened just so. 

‘Care to share why you look and sound like the cat who got the cream?’ he asked almost nonchalantly, as if he didn’t really care. 

She looked back and up to him, lamenting having put on her jacket therefore depriving him of a better view of her unsupported breasts. Ah, no matter. As always, his grey eyes were dutifully trained not on her if they could help it at all. She wasn’t planning on encountering him today, there was nothing to it anyway. They held eye contact once he realised she wasn’t going to answer promptly and risked a glance back at her, as the elevator jerked forward before going sideways again. Both had pressed the Atrium, it seemed.

‘Cream? Hmm… None, yet. Maybe after desserts’, the brunette felt emboldened, prickling skin raised to the closeness of his cologne and the thick tension between them.

The damn man knew how to pick his scents, and sure got under her skin. She licked the corner of her mouth, letting him glimpse what kind of dessert she had in mind. His other eyebrow joined the first, and a pink tint starting to bathe the tip of his elegant nose. Hermione’s smile softened and she dialed back down her unplanned seduction. It wouldn’t do to spook him like a wild centaurus again.

‘Too early for dinner, too late for lunch. Not quite tea time either. Who knew you were such a gourdman’ Draco commented in half a whisper, training his gaze back to the doors, knowing full well that he was playing into her game again, even if he barbed his words with halfhearted insults.

The witch didn’t take offense, but did took half a step to face his profile better. He was apparently feeling gutsy today. Privately, she wondered if it was for the lack of physical touch, and promptly decided on testing her newest theory.

Her unoccupied hand reached up to soothe an invisible wrinkle on his chest as he tensed as always, and not wanting to come across as matronly at all, she smiled and let her hand linger in a soft, slow caress down to his waist. He straightened, but did not pull away.

‘Oh, but we both know, don’t we?’ her barely raised voice was just for him, as she searched his face and delighted on how his blushing was spreading on his features. 

Yes, they did both know indeed. Her tipsy tongue still featured on his most alarming dreams, even months after the last ministry gala. Draco looked skittishly at the doors, then back at her, offering no answer and no movement besides a strangled swallow as he looked again at her tiny hand in contrast with the softness of his jumper.

Her racing heart matched the heated pulses down her spine as she continued her path down, down his stomach down to his hip down to his trousers. The classic fit was obviously tailored, as he was wearing no belt. She too, looked down at her own hand and took a moment to admire how well dressed the man was. Her determined index finger started making its way under the jumper, into the trousers’ snug fit. It found a dressing shirt blocking the access to his marbled skin. 

‘Always so overdressed, Malfoy’ Hermione could not help but pout, since she still hadn’t been able to catch a feel for his naked skin despite her best efforts. ‘One of these days I’m going to start believing that you don’t want to play’.

The light rumbling and shake of the magical elevator signaled their arrival at the Atrium and she delighted herself on his full blush because she knew full well what he was going to do. He never touched her, not even to remove her from his person. Breaking their touch with a somehow elegant shimmy, and taking a step back, a wordless, wandless spell took the lovely shade of red off of his face. His pallor was almost jarring after such a lovely rosy face.

‘It is in games that many men discover their paradise*. After you’ he did not offer anything more, but it was enough. 

She smiled sincerely at him and took his arm once they were both out of the elevator, even going as far as holding her hand properly on is forearm unlike last time she had teased him so. The quote teased at her brain, but she would have to resort to look it up after, after when she didn’t have such a catch on her arm. Draco shot her half a smile that was as grateful as it was regal.

‘To the fireplaces?’

‘Not sure actually, I’m meeting up with Harry and he had dibs on picking the place today.’ Hermione took the olive branch for what it was, and they walked around the giant gold Fountain in no hurry.

With her wand holstered, she had nothing but pure will to send the half forgotten report to her boss in a very complex, warded paper plane that zoomed off at considerable speeds, and as soon as she could she joined Draco in looking around for a black mop of head amidst the mixed crowd of ministry workers and civilians. 

Turned out that he spotted them before they could, and called for them with a raised hand. The witch felt her companion tense at the company Harry was currently entertaining near one of the biggest fireplaces and didn’t bother too much in hiding her own displeasure. Yet Hermione looked up at him and smiled encouragingly, as she started walking towards the man-who-lived, knowing full well that Malfoy wouldn’t be caught dead being dragged around by no one.

‘Harry! Ready to go?’ Hermione didn’t miss a single beat as she waved generally at the few aurors that accompanied her best friend, not singling out anybody in particular despite knowing them all.

Draco did a double take at that, recognising everybody as well and tipping his head to every man present. Courteous enough to not commit a faux pass, but not caring nearly enough to open his mouth without a reason to. Corner and Goldstein, both Ravenclaws one a booklicker and his arrogant partner, and even Macmillan the golden Hufflepuff, but he seemed to have lost his partner, as last but not least, Ronald Weasley, infamous ex boyfriend as of a year now. His glare was all the answer the blond got for his troubles.

‘Where do you even want to go with Harry anyways? You didn’t tell me you wanted to go somewhere’ Ron interjected, trying and failing to not sound venomous.

‘Yeah, the boys were just asking if I was going to be back on time to go to the pub later. Apparently they’ve roped Neville into it as soon as he’s done with his classes. I bet I could get Malfoy to come too, just for fun’’ the blackhead offered with half a smile, knowing full well what the witch’s answers would be even if he wasn’t aware of exactly what the excuse today would be. Afterall, he was absolutely certain that nobody, not even the Draco Malfoy that adorned her arm this fine afternoon, would get between Hermione and their plans tonight.

No one bothered to acknowledge what Weasley had said. Most were just trying to not make it too obvious that they were still looking at the linked arm elegantly draped over Malfoy’s. Even the passerby’s hushed as they walked closer to try and get the latest gossip on the famous auror and his friends.

‘Aw, but you can go out next friday, I need to go to the Black’s family library today! Who knows when I’ll have a weekend for myself next? All the books on the ministry’s library are all but worthless! Draco can attest to it!’ Hermione started going off about ancient books and forgotten calculus and genius authors, bristled just the right amount, and frowned her brow to the badgers, appealing to all present to not get between her and her unnamed project to tackle next. And just like magic, every man present except the ever pucing redhead accepted the excuse.

Seeing the fire on her cognac eyes and being reasonably certain that what Hermione intended on doing with or to Harry today didn’t involve books at all, Draco took his simple, selfish pleasure in being seen in public with the golden girl and the golden boy, in a gaggle of old Dumbledore’s Army ex-members. His poised silence and relaxed posture would do the rest for the gossip of the masses. And the wild haired witch hadn’t even let go of his arm, signaling him that he was not done accompanying her to her destiny.

‘Fair enough’ interceded a very diplomatic Harry both hands in the air, managing to hush the boisterous Ron on his protests. ‘Today I’ll help Hermione, and knowing how it is with her we are just going to assume I’ll be unavailable all weekend so no quidditch games without me, so that next weekend we can go all out. What do you say, Goldstein? Would a week be enough to rouse two full teams?’

Oh, Draco could appreciate the finessing on all that politicking. He was going to get a full weekend of quiet calm with his secret dalliance, and next weekend already planned out of other’s time to enjoy Quidditch and pints with his mates. Oh, what the wonder boy wouldn’t accomplish if he had his sights set on it. His instincts were screaming at him at this point.

‘I’m down to make you eat another snitch whenever you want, Potter. This time I’ll personally throw it down your gullet’ the man drawled absolutely on purpose, bringing back echoes of the shit-eating boy he’d been. ‘And Goyle still has his bat, too’

Both men looked at each other and shared smiles full of promises of dares and dangers, and revelled in the unease of the almost purple faced Weasley. With an unnecessary flair of the dramatics, a dainty feet clad on kitten heels stomped down and Hermione huffed.

‘Fine, but I refuse to play mediwitch again!’ her tiny, perky nose pointing upwards in righteousness, Draco deigned himself to chuckle softly and put a single hand over hers, half testing the boundaries they shared in public, half to taunt the stupidest member of the Weasley family, who seemed to not be able to find enough oxygen to breathe in.

‘I don’t recognise you guys. First Hermione opening her speech with a garbage acceptance of the past, and now we all have to be mates with the snakes?’ with a fuming snarl, even if he didn’t dare raise his voice, Ron made his way out of the group avoiding Harry’s judgement, clipping Malfoy shoulder to shoulder just for good measure.

The refined aristocrat knew better than to make a scene, referring to the muggleborn lady at his arm absolutely ignoring the rest of the protest the hufflepuff made about keeping everybody together for a game.

‘Hermione?’

He knew she was more than ok, she knew he knew, and everybody had seen that the most that Ron had accomplished was to destabilise them for a second, nothing more. She smiled at him with a hopeless shake of her head, and the group broke off in a mood after the classless crashness, an unique Weasley trait.

‘So, Grimauld place and take out?’ Hermione proposed to the three of them that still remained.

‘The old Black city residency and some kind of murder? I would have to bow out, Granger, I don’t fancy another visit to Azkaban’ the haughty blonde asked, half joking but really not, since he did not know what else a take out could be and he did not doubt for a second the couple being capable of doing so under determined circumstances. Both looked up at him and laughed, but without malice

‘Ah no Malfoy, it’s just a muggle phrase to indicate that somebody will bring whatever food you order to your house.’ Harry explained with no judgement, pushing both his hands into his leather jacket pockets. ‘Quite indecent and fattening, but once in a while doesn’t hurt. I bet you’d like the turkish place downtown. But I was really looking forward to that thing under the table you do, miss, and I did have a good restaurant picked for our late lunch’

Draco raised both of his eyebrows, for it seemed that indeed they were to go out to eat, and wasn’t that a surprise after the sinful double entendre he had been treated to back at the elevator. The witch seemed to be for once the one to blush, as she playfully reached for Harry and reverse frog marched them to the nearest fireplace.

‘We can do that any other lunch date we set, Harry, but when will I ever get again the opportunity to rope Malfoy himself into helping me research my new project? Come on. You first, and adjust the wards quick please’

An incredulous Harry laughed and ceded at her demands, and went fist first into the fire. A common mistake.

‘He’s going to land on his face’ Draco predicted, too dazzled to process properly that, oh not only were they going to have a late lunch, but all three were now going to research some standing project for the one and only Granger. 

‘How do you know?’ the witch questioned, not expecting such a random comment.

‘He doesn’t have proper form when going into the fire, the fire is going to spit him facefirst. If he had gone with the fist any higher he would have come out arse first’ 

‘Huh, so there is a fire etiquette to follow during travels?’


End file.
